


Second Chances: The Phone Call

by callboxkat



Series: Second Chances [7]
Category: Sanders Sides, Sanders Sides (Web Series), Thomas Sanders, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Homeless, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:34:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23008669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callboxkat/pseuds/callboxkat
Summary: The time has come for Roman to call his parents for the first time since he disappeared five years ago. But do they even want to hear from him?
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman Sanders & Thomas Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Thomas Sanders, Creativity | Roman & Logic | Logan & Morality | Patton, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders, Logicality, Platonic Moralogince, Platonic Thvi, Romantic Logicality
Series: Second Chances [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1126242
Comments: 21
Kudos: 104





	Second Chances: The Phone Call

**Author's Note:**

> As you guys will see, this installment has a lot of Spanish in it. I've tried to include enough context clues for anyone who doesn't speak the language, but if you still want any translations or clarification, just let me know!  
> Update: You can find Spanish-heavy scene translations in the Extras.

Patton rolled over in the bed yet again, trying to get comfortable. It was very late, and he should have been asleep hours ago, but his brain just wouldn’t turn off. Given all that had been revealed that day, all that there was to do, he wasn’t exactly surprised. But he wished that he could be able to forget about that, at least for a while, at least until he’d gotten some sleep. That didn’t seem likely to happen any time soon, given how wide-awake he still felt. He didn’t know exactly what time it was; but if he were to look at the clock on the bedside table, he would probably wince.

A sleepy grumble sounded next to him. “Patton?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Lo,” Patton whispered, his heart sinking. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You’ve—” Logan yawned, shifting in the bed and pulling himself closer to his boyfriend. “You’ve been tossing and turning all night. What’s wrong?” He blinked tired eyes at Patton in the dimly lit room.

“I can’t stop thinking about what Roman said,” Patton admitted, still whispering. “I just… His parents have no idea what happened. They haven’t seen him in _five years!_ He just went off to school, and disappeared, and you know they tried to find him—they _had_ to—and, oh, Logan, how do you think they felt when they found out he never even made it to school? They probably think he hated them, or—or maybe even that he’s _dead_.”

“Shhh,” Logan soothed, clearly more awake now because of the stress in Patton’s voice. “I know,” he murmured. “I know. It is a difficult situation. I assure you, though, we will do what we can to find them.”

“I just want to find that boyfriend of his, and—and _fight_ him.”

“Even if you could do that without facing legal ramifications, it wouldn’t do any good.”

“But he deserves it.” Patton sounded unusually angry.

“Maybe,” Logan admitted, tracing a geometric pattern on Patton’s arm through his pajama sleeve in an attempt to soothe him.

“I can’t sleep, Lo,” Patton said sadly. “I should be doing something. Trying to find his parents, so they know he’s okay.”

“Even if we did find them now, I doubt they would appreciate a phone call at—” he sat up slightly to see the clock— “four in the morning.”

Patton sighed. Logan was right, of course, that it was too late to do anything now; but he didn’t have to like it.

“Come here,” Logan invited, lifting up one arm. “The only thing you should be doing right now is sleeping. You don’t have school tomorrow. You can try to find them then.”

“You had him write down their names, right?” Patton mumbled, nestling himself into Logan’s arms. Roman would be leaving early in the morning, so they wouldn’t have the chance to ask him then.

“Correct. As well as their last known address.”

“Good.”

Logan adjusted how the blankets draped over them both, and Patton closed his eyes. It was a while longer before he managed to drift off to sleep, still buzzing with a frenzied energy even as he lay curled in his boyfriend’s embrace; but finally, he did.

…

Roman couldn’t help but worry that he’d made a mistake. Maybe he should have kept quiet about what had happened and why he was homeless. He hadn’t shared any specific details of what exactly his ex-boyfriend had said about him, but that didn’t mean that Logan and Patton wouldn't believe that he’d been lying. What if they decided Roman really was an irredeemable person, like everyone else had? What if they decided to throw him out again now that they knew just how much at fault he was for his own situation? What if they couldn’t find his parents, and he never got the chance to apologize?

What if they did manage to contact his parents, and they rejected him?

Suffice to say, Roman was very distracted the day after he shared his story, which was not a good state of mind to have at only his second day on the job at the Sanders Café. Barely an hour into his shift, he ended up dropping a container of coffee grounds, its contents spilling across the floor. It had only been half-full, but this latest mistake only made Roman feel like more of a screw up. He stared down at the mess, his mouth falling open as he was jerked out of his fog.

His fellow barista—Alex, today, apparently—groaned and turned away, hands thrown up in the air. “Seriously, Princey?”

Roman stammered something about getting a broom, very aware of the snickers and annoyed mutterings of a few customers waiting in line, only to run right into Thomas, their manager, who had clearly seen the whole thing. Of course, he had. The area behind the counter wasn’t exactly huge.

Thomas took a step back, eyebrows furrowed as he steadied the flustered barista. “Hey, Roman?” he said, “why don’t you go take a ten minute break in the back? I’ll clean this up.”

Roman immediately jerked upright, eyes widening. “Thomas, I’m sorry, it won’t happen again, I swear it was an accident—”

“Woah, Roman,” Thomas said, his voice a little higher than usual. “You’re not in trouble, I promise. It’s only your second day. Just go take a break. Sit down for a bit. Reset. I’ll clean up and man the register.”

Roman nodded and sheepishly walked off, glancing back in time to see the other barista take the broom from Thomas and shoo him towards the register.

He sat down in the office in the back, putting his head in his hand. He glanced at the time on his watch, a cheap but nice-looking piece with a red band that Logan and Patton had bought for him, and sighed through his nose. He’d already messed up so bad that he’d been put in time out, and he had several hours left in his shift. Plenty of time to get himself fired, at the rate he was messing things up.

He had to focus if he wanted to do well and actually keep this job; but all he could think about was the night before and the daunting prospect of what was to come.

Not for the first time, Roman wished he still had a phone. Maybe if he could message Patton and Logan, he could put his mind at ease. They’d reacted sympathetically the night before, but he couldn’t help but think that they very well could have changed their minds. And he suspected that they were going to tell Val a condensed version of the tale, if they hadn’t already. They hadn’t really talked about that, but they should have. Roman would have asked them to hold off. Yet another worry of his was that she would hear about how this was all his fault and decide to kick him out again.

 _There’s nothing you can do about it right now_ , he told himself, shaking his head harshly. He sat up suddenly straight. He shouldn’t be worrying about all of this now; he was at work. He had a job. People were counting on him, even if it was only to help give people their caffeine and pastry fix. Thomas and ‘Alex’ shouldn’t have to do the job all by themselves.

He closed his eyes and breathed in and out slowly, his posture erect. It was no different to a performance, he told himself. He just needed to put everything else aside and get into the right mindset.

Eventually, the ten minutes passed, and Roman made his way back to the front. He straightened his company shirt and apron, squared his shoulders, and stepped out. Thomas was seated on a stool behind the register, while ‘Alex’ was busy making some kind of chocolate syrup, sprinkle, and whipped cream-covered drink. It looked like a pile of sugar in a cup, and it looked absolutely delicious. The mess of coffee grounds was gone.

“Grab me a lid,” ‘Alex’ said, not looking up as he approached.

Roman did, picking one up off the stack and handing it over. He was probably more pleased with himself that he grabbed the correct kind than the moment warranted; but to be fair, the bar for success was currently set at not dropping everything on the floor.

The barista grunted as if to substitute a “thank you,” then handed over the drink to a college-aged girl with enough colorful barrettes in her hair to create a double rainbow.

“Thanks,” she drawled, dropping a quarter in the tip jar.

“Thank you!” Thomas said with a smile as she swaggered off.

“Do you want me to take over?” Roman asked, coming up next to Thomas.

Thomas hummed. “Well, you can if you’d like, but I’d appreciate if you helped make drinks. That okay with you?”

Roman nodded, biting his lip. He still didn’t know how to actually work the machines, but he wasn’t going to refuse. “Yeah, that’s fine. Thanks, Thomas.”

It turned out that he needn’t have worried about not knowing how to operate the machines. As he probably should have expected given the coffee grounds incident, his coworker was rather reluctant to let him put together the drinks. ‘Alex’ mostly had him fetch things, like the caramel or chocolate syrup, whipped cream bottles, lids, and firmly closed containers of coffee or milk.

Because nothing was perfect, while Roman was definitely more on his game than before, he did still make a few mistakes. One time, Roman handed over the almond milk instead of soy milk, and the other barista groaned like Roman had just made the screw-up of the century.

“Princey. This is _almond milk._ I asked for _soy milk_. They are not the same thing. What if the customer was allergic to almonds? You could have just put someone in the hospital!”

Roman opened his mouth and shut it again. Finally, he just huffed, took the almond milk back, and switched it out for the correct one.

 _“Thank you,”_ the barista said in an exaggerated tone, adding the milk to the drink.

Thomas glanced over. “Storm Cloud,” he said, making ‘Alex’s’ face redden under its pale foundation, “it was an honest mistake. We all have off days.”

Roman felt a rush of gratefulness for Thomas.

“Right, right,” the other barista grumbled. “It just happens that some of us have more of them than others.”

Roman felt his face turn pink. He wanted to argue that it was only his second day, that the other barista was judging him before even getting to know him, that he could do much better than this. But he also really wanted to keep this job. And besides—with how Roman’s life had turned out so far, who was he to say that he could do anything right?

So, instead, he just irritably got back to being ‘Alex’s’ errand boy, fetching lids and straws and ingredients, until finally the end of their shift arrived, and Roman could go home. Or at least, back to what he hoped he could still consider his home. At least he didn’t mess anything else up that day.

“Good job today, Roman,” Thomas said as he took off his apron. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, can’t wait for him to mess up more stuff,” ‘Alex’ muttered, too quietly for Thomas to hear, and just barely loud enough for Roman to make out. “Just wait until he actually tries to pour a cup of coffee.”

Roman shot a glance at the other barista, then flashed a strained smile at Thomas. “See you tomorrow.”

…

Roman walked back home—or at least, to Logan’s house—slowly. He would have been scuffing his feet along the sidewalk if he weren’t so reluctant to damage the shoes that Logan and Patton had bought for him. He wasn’t looking forward to seeing the others, knowing they’d probably want to talk about the night before.

He arrived and let out a long, heavy sigh. He didn’t see anyone right away, so he just plodded up to the guest room—“his” room, for however much longer that would last—and threw himself down on the bed.

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, his face pressed into the comforter, before he heard a quiet knock at his door.

“Roman?”

Roman sighed in resignation, pushed himself up off of the bed, and went to answer the door. He pulled it open, and there was Patton, standing with a few pieces of paper in his arms and a simultaneously concerned and hopeful look on his face.

“Sorry, kiddo, I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No—no, you didn’t,” Roman assured him, shifting on his feet. He offered a dazzling smile. “Um, what brings you here?”

Patton smiled, perking up instantly. “I think I found them,” he said, starting to rock back and forth where he stood. “Can I show you? I wanted to make sure, before we tried to contact them or anything. But I think I did it!”

Roman’s gaze drifted to the papers in Patton’s arms. The cold feeling of dread settled in his chest. He had found them? In one day? Roman supposed that made sense, since they probably weren’t exactly hiding; but that still felt like far too fast. He knew he ought to be excited, but the feeling wouldn’t come.

Patton hesitated, searching Roman’s face. His rocking slowed to a stop. “Maybe this could wait?” he suggested hesitantly.

Roman opened his mouth to reply, but could only nod.

“Have you had lunch?”

Roman shook his head.

“Okay!” Patton said. “After lunch it is.”

“You didn’t eat yet?” Roman’s eyebrows furrowed, looking up from the papers in Patton’s hands. It had to be nearly 3pm by now, right? Roman had gotten off work at 2.

“Nope! I wanted to wait for you. It’s just the two of us today; that okay?”

“Yeah, Pat, of course,” Roman had expected to be eating alone, after all. “I don’t mind.”

“So, how was work?” Patton asked as they made their way downstairs.

“Oh, uh… it was alright.”

“Really?”

“Yep.” Roman smiled for good measure.

“Well, I’m glad. Maybe you can tell me about it while we eat.”

“Oh, there’s not much to tell. Just making coffee, thanking people for 25 cent tips.”

“But you like it there?”

Roman shrugged. “Might be too soon to tell, but it’s alright.” Thomas was nice, at least. As for Alex, or Enrique, or Terrence, or whatever… Roman couldn’t say. He hoped they’d get along eventually.

…

Roman stared down at the phone in his hand, borrowed from Patton. His _mamá’s_ name was displayed on the screen. All he had to do was press a button, and he could talk to her. Assuming she answered.

“Do you want to be alone, maybe?” Patton asked gently. “Logan and I can go.” He and his boyfriend were seated on either side of Roman, for moral support.

“No—no, that’s okay,” Roman said. His mouth was dry. He took a shaky breath, hesitated, and took another. He pressed the button.

The phone rang. Once, twice, three times.

“Hello?” a lightly accented voice asked. “Who—?”

Roman’s thumb smacked the end call button.

Logan looked confused. “Was that not her?”

Patton shushed him, murmuring quietly, before turning back to Roman. “Roman, there’s no rush. If you’re not ready, we can wait.”

“No… I’m sorry, I don’t… I panicked a little there.” He laughed nervously. “That was… that was her.”

“Should we try again?”

Roman nodded, staring at the phone. He proceeded to sit there, staring at it, for several minutes in silence. Patton put a hand between his shoulder blades and rested it there.

Roman hit the call button.

The phone rang. Only once this time.

“Hello, who is this?” 

Roman inhaled shakily.

 _“Hola, Mamá,”_ he said, fleetingly proud of the fact that his voice hardly wobbled.

There was an audible sigh on the other end of the line. Roman’s heart dropped to his stomach.

_“¿Mijo, por qué me llamas?”_

Roman swallowed, his heart sinking even further at her tone. She didn’t want to hear from him; of course she didn’t want to hear from him; why would she? He should have just stayed away. What had he thought would happen? Of course she hated him. He would have ended the call right then, but he felt too devastated to move.

_“¿Ya estás en problemas de nuevo? Re—”_

Roman gasped loudly, realization hitting him; and his _mamá_ broke off in surprise. She thought he was his brother. Of course, he should have realized sooner.

 _“No, no, Mamá,”_ he said desperately. _“Soy yo. Soy Roman.”_

There was a pause. Roman could feel himself sweating. His heart pattered discordantly, like a stone falling down a staircase. A tiny flame of hope flared within him, one he didn’t dare allow to grow. He beat it down in silence, waiting. It felt like decades before his _mamá_ responded.

_“¿Es un chiste? ¿Te estás burlando de mí?”_

She thought it was a joke, that he—or rather, Roman’s twin brother—was making fun of her. _“No, Mamá, te prometo. Soy Roman.”_ His voice broke, shaking as he fought to get the words out. That must have been what convinced her.

 _“¿…Roman?”_ she repeated, breathy, shocked.

Patton’s hand rubbed his back in slow circles. Logan was silent, clearly uncomfortable and unsure how to help; but he hadn’t left, which Roman appreciated.

 _“Sí,”_ Roman confirmed once more. _“Sí, soy yo.”_ He took a breath. _“Mamá, lo siento, lo siento muchísimo—”_

Roman’s _mamá_ found her voice at the same time. _“Roman, mijito, ¿dónde estás? ¿Qué te pasó? Cariño, cariño—”_ She was crying, talking so fast Roman could barely keep up, asking what had happened, where he had been all this time, if he was okay, why he had disappeared.

All Roman could seem to do was to keep repeating that he was okay and that he was sorry. Patton kept rubbing between his shoulder blades. Logan was studying the floor.

…

Patton was slowly rubbing Roman’s back, trying to offer his silent support as his friend called his mom for the first time since he’d disappeared five years before. He could only properly hear half the conversation, although he could hear Roman’s _mamá_ muffled voice through the speaker—she must have been practically shouting, and Patton couldn’t exactly blame her. He didn’t speak Spanish, but he caught a few words here and there. Names, phrases like “ _soy yo_ ” and _“lo siento”_ that were repeated over and over again. At one point, he heard Roman’s mamá shout, very clearly, something that Patton was pretty sure meant “We thought you were dead!”

Slowly, as time went on, the exchange began to calm down, becoming more of a proper conversation. Patton couldn’t have told you what exactly they said; but he didn’t mind not being able to listen in, or that Roman had probably chosen to speak in Spanish for this exact reason. This way, he could be supportive without any guilt about eavesdropping.

He just kept rubbing a hand between Roman’s shoulder blades, waiting.

After a while, Roman moved the phone away from his lips, glancing furtively at Patton. “She, um… she wants me to come see her.”

Patton smiled at him. “That’s good, isn’t it? I’m sure she’s missed you.”

Roman nodded, looking worried.

“If you are concerned about potentially missing work,” Logan offered, “you can call and ask for the time off. You could also utilize a weekend, and minimize any potential missed time.”

Roman still looked unsure.

Patton opened his mouth, to ask what he was thinking, but Roman was already returning to the call.

…

 _“Está_ Dad _en casa?”_ Roman asked, avoiding answering his _mamá_ ’s question about a visit for the moment.

His _mamá_ hesitated, then responded _, “Lo siento, Roman, no está. Trabaja hoy. Lo siento. Sé que quieres hablar con él también.”_

Roman’s eyes flicked downwards. He felt a conflicting mixture of relieved and disappointed that his dad wasn’t there to answer the call. _“No, no, no te preocupes._ _Puedo llamar otra vez.”_ There would be plenty of time to talk to him later, surely?

_“Lo siento. ¿Y, Roman? Por favor, dime. ¿Estás seguro? ¿No estás en peligro?”_

_“Estoy seguro,”_ he reassured her. He was safe now, anyway. _“Estoy con… con unos amigos, en una ciudad al suroeste de Saint Gabriel. Les llaman Logan, Patton y Val. Me están ayudando. Te llamo en el celular de Patton, de hecho.”_

_“Me alegro de que estés seguro, y con amigos. Pero, mijo, todavía no me has respondido. ¿Dónde estabas por tanto tiempo? ¿Dónde estás ahora? ¿Qué te pasó?”_

Roman swallowed. _“Pues…”_

The conversation was a bit of a blur after that. His _mamá_ was very upset, of course, as Roman had known she would be. She wanted answers, and Roman knew he owed them to her. Still, there was only so much he could say without breaking down completely.

He told her the basics. That he had been rejected from Saint Gabriel, that he had been embarrassed to tell his parents, and that he had ended up homeless until very recently. He told her that he had a job now, and that he was staying with some friends. There were certain things that he left out, a lot of things; but regardless, Roman’s _mamá_ sounded absolutely heartbroken.

At one point while he spoke, Logan had left and come back with a few glasses of water. Roman took a sip from his, casting a brief, grateful glance in Logan’s direction.

Finally, they agreed that they would talk about everything in person as soon as possible, and that Roman would call her every night until then—this, of course, he okayed with Patton, first.

 _“¿Cuándo puedo llamar a_ Dad?” Roman asked. He would like to talk with his dad as soon as possible. Now that he’d ripped off the band-aid, contacting his parents at all, putting it off would only draw out his stress.

_“Hmm… debo hablar con él primero.”_

_“¿No puedo llamarlo esta noche?”_ Roman frowned. He supposed he understood his _mamá_ wanting to talk to his dad before he did, so that he wasn’t as taken off guard as she was; but she was talking like Roman might not be able to call him that night at all.

She hesitated. _“Roman, hay algo que necesitas saber…”_

…

Logan stepped into the hallway and quietly closed the bedroom door behind him. He sighed and padded down the hall and down the staircase. His boyfriend looked up as he entered the living room.

“Any news?”

“No, he simply asked to be left alone. He claims to want to get some extra rest for his shift tomorrow.”

“It’s only seven,” Patton said, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “We haven’t even had dinner yet.”

“Clearly, something was said on the call that upset him,” Logan said, sitting beside Patton, who leaned over and rested his head on his shoulder. “He will speak to us when he is ready.”

“I shouldn’t have pushed him into this,” Patton mumbled. “This is my fault.”

“No, love,” Logan said. “Whatever happened, it is not your fault. You only desired to help him, and you _did_ help. He needed to contact his parents, whatever the outcome. They deserve to know that he is well, and he deserves to have a relationship with them if he desires it. Even if something went wrong, this was only the first contact he has had with either of them in years. His mother requested that he call every night, did she not?”

“Yes…”

“So it follows that there will be plenty of time to work out any issues. I’d imagine that Roman’s parents are upset at his disappearance, and at the situation he found himself in.”

“What if it’s more than that?”

“Well, even if there is something more going on, something that cannot be fixed with patience and communication, we are here.”

Patton nodded, his head still resting on his boyfriend’s shoulder. Logan leaned over and kissed his forehead.

…

“Knock, knock,” Patton called, knocking on the closed door. He waited a second, but received no answer. He bit his lip. “Can I come in, kiddo?”

Still no response.

“I’m opening the door, okay?”

He turned the knob and nudged the door open. The bedroom within was dark. Patton could see Roman lying facedown on the bed, his arms wrapped around the pillow.

“Ro?” Patton asked, softening his voice.

“I’m asleep,” Roman said into the pillow, very clearly not asleep.

“Dinner’s ready,” Patton tempted. “Val made quesadillas. And there’s a couple of sides, if you’re not feeling like those.”

“Hmph.”

Patton stepped closer. “Kiddo, what happened? Can you talk to me?”

Roman’s response was too muffled to make out. Patton wasn’t sure it was even real words.

“Do you want me to go? I can just bring you a plate, and let you rest.”

Roman didn’t say anything to that, so Patton walked up to the bed and sat down at Roman’s side.

“Roman, I want to help, but I don’t know how. Can you tell me?”

Roman didn’t answer for a while. They sat there in near silence, Val and Logan’s conversation just audible from the dining room below. Finally, Roman turned his head so that his face was no longer smushed into the pillow. “It’s my dad,” he mumbled.

“Your dad?”

“He doesn’t want to see me.”

“You can’t know that. You haven’t even talked to him. Did your mom say that?”

“She didn’t have to. He thinks I’m like _him_. That I’m just….” Roman let out a heavy sigh. “That I’m no good.”

Patton decided not to ask who “him” was. “Why would he think that?”

Roman snorted. His tone was bitter as he responded, “You’ve already forgotten what I told you?”

“You mean the plagiarism? Roman, as soon as you explain, they’ll know that wasn’t your fault. Just tell them what you told me and Logan. They’ll understand. It’s obvious they love you. I don’t speak Spanish, sure, but I heard it in your mom’s voice.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Why not?”

“Because—why would they believe me? And even if they did, I still lied, and I ghosted them. That was all me.”

“You were scared. Kids do stupid stuff when they’re scared.”

“I wasn’t a kid.”

“Okay, so you were eighteen. I’m twenty-one and I still do stupid stuff.”

“Not that stupid.”

Patton shrugged. “You’re trying to fix it now, right?”

Roman was silent.

“That’s all we can do, Roman. We mess up, and we try to do better. You’re trying to do better, here. Your dad will see that. And even if he doesn’t, well, I do. Logan does. Val does, too.”

And, hey, if Val could warm up to Roman, a homeless man she didn’t even know, and Logan could befriend his former “nemesis,” then surely Roman’s own dad would come around, too.

“I know you’re worried about what he’s going to say. But you haven’t even talked to him yet. I think we just have to be careful not to get ahead of ourselves.”

Roman shifted. “Maybe,” he admitted.

Patton figured that that was the best he was going to get, at least until Roman had spoken with his dad. “Do you want to come down for dinner? Or I could bring you something.”

“No… I think I’m just going to stay here. Long day. Work tomorrow. You know.”

“That’s fine. Just make sure you eat some breakfast tomorrow, okay? Can’t have you going to work hungry.”

“Yeah, Pat, I will.” He yawned. Whether it was for show or not, Patton couldn’t say.

“I could stay here a bit, if you want?”

“I’ll be okay. Thanks, though.” He buried his face back in the pillow, as if to end the conversation.

Patton nodded to himself, then got to his feet. He went back out into the hall and quietly closed the door behind him. He hoped things went well for Roman. He deserved that.

…

“Roman. Roman, wake up.”

“Mph?” Roman shifted, his mind still murky, and lifted his head from where his face had been smushed into the pillow beneath it. He looked to the side, and saw a large, dark figure leaning over him.  
“Ahh!!”

It drew back sharply, and the light fell across its face.

It was Logan, wearing pajamas and with a towel around his shoulders. He looked startled.

“Apologies, Roman, but you need to wake up,” he said. “You overslept.”

“What?!”

“I was getting ready, and I saw your door was still shut. You must have forgotten to set your alarm, or fallen back asleep by mistake.”

Roman shot upright. “What time is it?!”

“Almost seven—”

“I’m _an hour late?_ Oh my god, I’m going to get fired!” Roman fisted his hands in the blankets, looking up at Logan in horror.

“There’s no need to panic, I’m sure they’ll forgive one mistake. Get dressed, I’ll drive you to work.”

“Okay, okay, okay…” Roman leapt out of bed and ushered Logan out. He got dressed as fast as possible and ran downstairs, taking the steps two at a time and nearly sending himself sprawling at the bottom.

Logan was by the front door, holding his car keys. He was still in pajama pants, his hair damp, but wearing shoes instead of slippers now.

“Won’t you be late if you drive me?” Roman asked, thinking out loud.

“Don’t worry about me,” Logan assured. “This is for the best, anyhow. It’s raining outside this morning.” He held out an umbrella. “It’s Patton’s. In case it’s still raining this afternoon. We can pick one up for you later.”

“Thanks,” Roman said, taking the umbrella. He would have protested, but they were short on time, and he knew that Patton didn’t plan to go anywhere that day.

They walked out to the car and drove to the café. Logan passed over a couple of breakfast bars for Roman to eat along the way, which he hardly tasted. When they finally arrived, Roman barely paused to thank Logan for the ride before he hopped out and all but ran inside.

His fellow barista was alone behind the counter, today wearing a name tag labelled ‘Ángel’ on his Sanders Café shirt.

“Have a great day,” he was saying as he approached, a customer-service smile in place. Then he turned to Roman with a thunderous expression. “About time you showed up!” he whisper-yelled, glaring. The difference between his former tone and the biting one he snapped at Roman with was jarring.

“I am so, so sorry,” Roman said, speed-walking towards him. “Where’s Thomas? Is he here?”

“I had the great fortune of _both_ of you being late today,” he answered, moving to grab a coffee cup. “Now get on the register, you have no idea how much of a pain it is to do two jobs at once.”

Roman left his jacket and Patton’s umbrella in the back and grabbed his apron. He came back out, still tying it behind his back. “So it was just you here?” he checked, guilt churning in his stomach.

“Obviously! Now get, like, cashier-ing!”

On the bright side, that meant that Thomas didn’t know he’d been late; but Roman highly doubted that ‘Ángel’ would neglect to tell him about Roman’s tardiness. He didn’t owe Roman anything, and he certainly didn’t seem in a forgiving mood.

Maybe Thomas would go easy on him, since he was late, too? Or had Roman used up his leniency the day before with his clumsiness?

He got through the next few orders; and when the line was gone for the moment, Roman turned back to ‘Ángel’.

“I am so sorry,” he said again. “I overslept. It was stupid, but it was a one-time thing, I promise.”

“Oh, you overslept?” he said dryly. “Boo-freaking-hoo. My neighbor’s stupid polka music kept me up until two in the freaking morning, and _I_ still managed to show up on time.”

Roman looked at him in dismay, but he could tell he was getting nowhere with this, so he just sighed and turned back to the register.

…

Ten minutes later, Thomas arrived. He pulled up in one of the spaces closest to the building, turned off the car, and stepped out. As Roman had noticed the day before, he again paused to casually lean on the side of his car for a moment. He’d pegged it on Thomas enjoying some sunshine before being stuck inside for the next eight hours; but it was raining this morning. He would be soaked if he stayed out there much longer.

‘Ángel’ sighed and looked at Roman. “I’ll be right back. Try not to break anything.” Then he grabbed a drink carrier, put it over his head like an improvised umbrella, and went outside. Roman watched, confused, as he spoke to Thomas for a couple of seconds, then took his arm and walked them both back inside.

“Is everything okay?” Roman asked.

“Yeah, just move your butt.”

“Everything’s fine, Roman,” Thomas said, smiling, sitting down on the stool that Roman vacated. He looked a little breathless, shrugging off his rain jacket. The other barista took it from him and walked to the back, glaring at Roman once more as if this was somehow his fault. He came back with an apron instead of the jacket, which he handed to Thomas along with a few paper towels. “Thanks, V.”

V? Roman glanced at the other barista as Thomas rubbed at his face with the towels, slotting away that information for later.

“Now,” Thomas glanced around the coffee shop as he put on his apron. “There seems to be a bit of a lull, so why don’t you show Roman how to use some of the machines? I don’t think we’ve gotten the chance to train him yet.”

“Maybe I could have earlier, if he’d shown up on time,” V muttered.

Roman’s heart sank.

“He was late?” Thomas turned to Roman.

“A little…” Roman admitted, mortified.

“He showed up just before you did.”

Thomas paused. “Well, it is the first time, isn’t it? And I think I’d be a bit of a hypocrite if I was mad at him for being late today, of all days.”

“That’s different,” V claimed.

“How?”

“Well—well, you’re the manager, for one. Aren’t your hours flexible anyway?”

“Yes, but I did promise to be here early today. Sorry about that, by the way. I got held up.”

V looked away and made an annoyed sound in his throat. It sounded almost like a hiss.

Thomas studied his face. “You feeling alright, Storm Cloud?”

“I’m great. Fantastic. Never been better.”

Thomas squinted disbelievingly. “How’d you sleep last night?”

“Fine.”

“Big polka music fan?” Roman dared to ask in a low voice.

Thomas glanced at Roman, a look of understanding growing on his face. This must not have been the first time V was kept up by his neighbor’s musical taste. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” he said. “You’re going to show Roman how to work everything, and then you’re going to go lie down in the back. I can give Roman a hand if he needs it, and if we really need you, I’ll come get you.”

V grumbled again; but he just jerked a hand, beckoning Roman over to the machines.

…

The machines turned out to not be as complicated as Roman had feared, once he actually knew what he was doing. V was a reluctant teacher, making everything sound like it should have been obvious, but it could have been much worse. He clearly wanted to be done with it as soon as possible, but he did make sure Roman understood everything before he pronounced his training complete.

Now, he was alone, making drinks and doling out pastries while Thomas sat at the register, taking the orders. V was in the back, taking a nap.

Roman couldn’t believe that. Thomas had actually told V to take a nap on company time. And he hadn’t been angry with Roman for being late for his third day on the job. Thomas was just too nice.

Out of gratefulness for his manager’s kindness, and the still-present fear that he was messing up too much to hope to keep this job, Roman took great care to make his drinks as perfectly and timely as possible. And by some miracle, he managed not to mess anything up. The biggest mistake he made was spilling a couple of drops of milk on the counter, something easily wiped away and not even noticed by anyone else.

V returned after a couple of hours, whispered something to Thomas, and joined Roman in making drinks. He seemed relieved when he saw how Roman was doing, and he didn’t snap at him for the rest of the shift. Perhaps he had just been tired earlier, and stressed from having to do the first hour of their shift alone. Roman couldn’t fault him for that.

So, the rest of the shift went without incident. It wasn’t even until it was over that Roman remembered that he was supposed to call his parents again that afternoon.

…

“Here you go, kiddo,” Patton said, handing over his cell phone.

“Thanks,” Roman said, looking down at it.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Roman shook his head. Patton didn’t need to hear his dad’s anger. “Thanks, though.”

Patton nodded, smiled at him, and went out into the hall.

Roman pulled his legs up on the bed and crossed them, still looking down at the phone. When he decided he was about as ready as he was going to get, he selected his _mamá_ ’s contact and hit the call button.

She picked up almost immediately. _“¿Roman?_ _¿Estás tú?”_

Roman smiled weakly, rubbing his jeans with one hand. _“Hola, Mamá.”_

_“¿Cómo estás?”_

_“Bien… ¿y tú?”_

_“Estoy bien, mijo, muy bien. Me hace muy feliz oír tu voz.”_

Roman looked down, a little embarrassed. “I missed you, too.”

“I have your dad here, _si quieres hablarle_.”

Roman hesitated. Was he ready to talk to his dad?

“…Um. _Sí_. Yes.”

There was a brief pause, and then a different voice came on the phone.

“Hi, Roman. Is that really you?”

“Hi, Dad… yeah, it’s me. I promise.”

“And you’re okay?”

Roman swallows. “Yes. I am.”

“Good.” There was a heavy pause. “Roman, if you were in trouble, why didn’t you just come to us for help? What the hell were you thinking?”

“Dad—”

“You lied to us, for how long? And then you just disappeared, no warning, nothing, for _five years?_ Roman, why on Earth would you do something like that? Don’t you know how worried we were? We thought you were dead! We thought you were dead; and the police wouldn’t even help us because you were already eighteen; and then when we finally got Saint Gabriel to talk to us, they said you were never even a student there. Do you know what you put your _mamá_ through?”

Tears welled up in Roman’s eyes. “I’m sorry. Dad, I’m sorry. Please… I made a mistake. A stupid mistake.”

Roman could hear his _mamá_ ’s muffled voice on the other end of the line, talking to his dad.

His dad let out a long sigh. “I know,” he said. “I know you’re sorry. And you have no idea how glad I am to hear from you, to know that you’re okay. “

There was a lump in Roman’s throat.

“But I hope you know we have a lot to talk about. You can’t just disappear for five years and not have us ask any questions.”

“I know.” Roman paused to rub the tears away from his eyes.

“Your _mamá_ says you’re coming to visit. Do you know when that’ll be?”

“Um. Soon. I still have to figure that out. I have work and stuff.”

“Yes, your _mamá_ mentioned that. You’re at a café, you said?”

“Yeah. I’m a—I’m a barista.”

“Not Starbucks, I hope.”

Roman huffed out a laugh. His dad hated Starbucks, for reasons Roman never understood. “No, it’s not Starbucks.”

“And they’ll give you the time off?”

“I hope so. I haven’t been there very long, but my manager’s pretty understanding.” Very understanding, honestly, with the sub-par—to put it lightly—performance Roman had been giving.

“That’s good. So, your _mamá_ says you’re staying with friends. What are they like?”

“They’re nice, Dad, really nice. They’ve been helping me out. I owe them a lot.”

He and his dad spoke for a while longer. Things gradually grew less tense, more comfortable. Most of the more awkward topics were avoided, but they could talk about that later. They would be able to piece things back together, Roman hoped. This was just the start.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!


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